This blog is a diary-type journal telling of daily happenings on the farm with family and friends. Feel free to join us at Woodsong if you are interested in rural life, writing, reading, grandkids, ducks, and other such everyday joys.

Saturday, June 21, 2014

Our 58th
wedding anniversary last Sunday started with a good morning kiss and a
hand-picked bouquet with roses on the breakfast table. I spent the morning at
Katherine’s giving meds and breakfast.
Since it was also Father’s Day, I met up with Gerald and our daughter Mary Ellen and her husband Brian
after church, and they drove us down to
the floating restaurant at Elizabeth
for dinner. Gerald and I had talked
about going there since we like being on the river, and we like the boat’s somewhat primitive atmosphere The Taylors had
never been, and it seemed the perfect beautiful drive to climax with fish from
the Ohio River. We all had hoped Trent might go along and
he almost did, but as I will explain in a minute, we ended up being glad he had
chosen to stay home.

By the time we drove
there, it was a late dinner hour and we were hungry. The cars lining the river bank warned us that
many fathers thought their fish dinner was a good idea for Father’s Day, but
that was to be expected. In recent
years, a double deck extra room has been attached to the original boat, and we
also noted a couple of families had pulled their boats up on one side for a
drive-in dinner. Inside we were sent back
to the outside to climb up into the extra room where they thought we would find
seating.

The waitress there
explained there was no communication between the inside and outside and all tables
were taken. Rather than stand there in
the narrow aisles looking like hungry vultures waiting for other customers’
table, we climbed back down and decided to enjoy the wooden walkway over the
river on the other side of the boat.
Gerald went back in and put our names on the inside waiting list. Actually it was not that long before our name
was called although we figured already that Trent would have had his fill of waiting by
then and we laughed at his wise choice.

It is customary to
share tables, and the waitress sat another couple at the end of our long table
and we acknowledged each other with smiles and nods as they carried on their
conversation and we continued ours. A
long time later menus arrived and our table’s orders taken. And we continued visiting. Until we ran out of anything to talk about
except wondering when they were going to bring our food.

By now we had started
conversing with the couple on the end of our table and found out they had been
at the Marion
race track the evening before although they lived in another area town. The man
was a long-time hobby race car driver and the wife his fan, Although none of us had ever been at that
rural track, we have always been able to hear the pleasant buzz of the racing cars
on Saturday night. The couple knew all kinds of people we knew, and soon we
were well acquainted and enjoyed being distracted from our hunger. They said
usually on Sunday they go to the Red Onion in Equality for a wonderful menu of
home cooking. But they decided to do something different; by the time they saw
all the parked cars at the boat, it was too late to make it to Equality before
the 3 o’clock closing time. We had never heard of the Red Onion, but their
description made us salivate. Others around us were growing increasingly
impatient and grumbling loudly that it was well over an hour since their orders
were taken. Some walked out. We held our breaths when someone was testy thinking
perhaps one table finally served may have come in after their order was taken. It
was getting ridiculous.

Fortunately Mary Ellen
and Brian were pleasant companions, and we all knew that fate had been kind
that 21-year-old Trent
had elected to stay home to eat and happily enjoy his games and many close
Internet geek friends and skyping with his girl friend in New Jersey.
We made dumb jokes about their having to fish out the back of the boat in
order to have the fish to cook for our orders. But we were hungry. And there were no snacks served nor any
explanations.

Finally the two very
young waitresses arrived with trays of food for both ends of our table. They started to leave us with no utensils to
eat with and fortunately the woman on the end told them we needed silverware. Before I knew it, I had snapped, “And an
apology.” Immediately the good manners
the two young women had received from
their parents kicked in, and they both spoke sincere-founding apologies. No explanations, however.

When we realized we
lacked catsup and tartar sauce, I retrieved them from a nearby table now
empty. I was feeling sheepish about my
rude remark, but at the same time, I thought it was good the young waitresses
got the instruction the management failed to give them, and I hoped they gave
the apology to the other hungry waiting customers. As far as I know, no apology, explanation,
nor adjustment of the bill was given to Brian, but he was gracious enough to
sum up the experience with the remark, “The fish was good!”

We had another lovely
drive home going through the Garden of the Gods enjoying the cliffs and all the
greenery there. Southern
Illinois is beautiful this time of year. We swung through historic Equality and saw
the Red Onion. I am sure we will go back
to the boat someday, but it will not be on a Sunday or holiday. But maybe the Red Onion will be tried this
summer.

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Sometime after
midnight, Elijah and Cecelie arrived on Thursday from northern Illinois. We’d texted, and I told them the door was
open and to find their beds and make themselves at home. I’ve been busy with appointments lately; and later
in the morning, they were still asleep when I had to keep a dentist
appointment.

By the time I came
home and fixed lunch, Brianna had already come over and carried them away. After lunch, I saw Sam’s car zoom up with
Anna aboard, and then there were three cars parked in the front yard. The cousins were having a confab on the
little circle of grass under the tree in the driveway probably plannning their
activities for the two days they could be together. Later Trent joined them. I enjoyed having the
familiar giggling and piano sounds once more as they came in and out of the
house. Their shoes in the front foyer
told me who was present when and who was sleeping over .

They are mostly all
grown up, and I know their together times will grow fewer in the busy years
ahead. Makes me sad and proud all at the same time. For years, a special treat
for me was for them to come and attend VacationBibleSchool in our village
church. Then one by one, as they outgrew VacationBibleSchool as students, they
pitched in to help as leaders.

They had originally
been scheduled to work in our VBS this week, but our leaders had to change the
date. Thus, our kids had this time
available to get together before all their other summer activities began. Even so, Brianna was working longer hours at
the local Dairy Queen so she could be away next week joining her high school
friends from Raymond in central Illinois in
their trip to work in VBS in Florida. Nevertheless, she crowded it all in and was
packed to leave early this morning. I
have enjoyed seeing the photos they posted as they traveled south today.

Katherine’s aide
had become sick and had to leave early
yesterday, so I went in to help after an earlier evening gathering. Seeing the beautiful full moon as I drove
home was my reward. I found Elijah still
at the computer when I went down to make sure he and Cecelie had seen the “Honey
Moon” so close to the earth that it looked larger. They had, and I went to bed
assuming they would be sleeping late this morning.

Full moons happen on
Friday the 13th more often, but this was the first “Honey Moon” on Friday the
13th since 1919, according to what I
read on the Internet. I won’t be around to see the next one.

No one was scheduled
at Katherine’s this morning and I went in to give her morning pills. I was
disappointed when I returned home and found
Lige and Cecelie’s note on the breakfast table that they had needed to leave at
ten for their long trip north. As always, the house seems very quiet when
Gerald and I are here alone after gramdkids visit.

I am excited, however, about the internship
Elijah will be participating in this summer in Chicago.
As I understand it, he will be one of 24 IllinoisStateUniversity students
spending their mornings helping a lead teacher in different neighborhood schools and their afternoons with
some community organization, Then they
will meet together for evening classes to complete their 8 to 8 daily
schedule. Sam and Cecelie, the
only grandchildren we have now still in
high school, will both be going to camps and on various trips that I hope to
hear about. Trent
will be in summer school when he is not gaming or living in his virtual world,
but he has plans to go to New York,
and I will definitely want to hear about that.
Living vicariously through grandchildren’s lives and activities is
definitely broadening.

After supper this
evening, Gerald and I went down to his office computer to watch the USSSA
Pride, which our son Gerry is coaching this summer. They are in Chicago this weekend and Monday playing the
Bandits. Pride lost to Monica Abbot’s
great pitching, but it was so fun to see players we have watched down through
the years playing professional softball now.
Gerald remembers Gerry having him walk over to another field during a travel
team tournament one summer to watch Monica Abbott pitch while she was still in
high school.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

I search for
distractions and/or blessings to encourage me these days. Seeing one’s child
suffer is excruciating. Recently a beautiful bouquet was waiting on the dining room table when I came home from
Katherine’s house. Deep pink peonies
mixed with lavender blue blooms filled a gorgeous vase and lifted my late-night
tiredness and depression. The next morning Gerald told me the story behind the
bouquet: my neighbor Mary Lea Kahlor
Burnham had come in and left them for us and phoned Gerald to tell him “a
burgler” had been in the house.

Gerald often does an
extra chore that I have always done in the past or brings me blooms from
outside. (His roses are getting quite beautiful now.) And he too brought me a couple of little bouquets not long after Mary
Lea did. As Mary Lea’s bouquet faded, I
mixed the last blossoms with Gerald’s to stretch my enjoyment as long as
possible. She had told Gerald the
lavender blue blooms from her late mother’s garden were “praying hands” closing
up at night and opening during the day.
I have enjoyed watching them do just that. I tried looking them up on Google, but the
only praying hands there were hostas, and it was the leaves that folded in
prayer, not the blossoms. So I am curious of another name for these small sweet
blooms.

This made me remember
how in my childhood I liked watching to see how my piano teacher’s row of four-o-clocks by her sidewalk always opened their red
blossoms in the late afternoon. Blooms have
often been a source not just of beauty but of fun. One summer down at Mt. Airy Farm, my mother
had snap dragons, and I enjoyed a lot of fascinating play snapping them. Of
course, in those days, you could also tell if someone liked butter by holding a
dandelion under the chin. If the yellow
were reflected, you could announce that the person liked butter. And the hollow dandelion stems could be put
together into a ring and added to others to make a chain much like the classic
red and green construction paper chains at Christmas. Even prettier chains were
made by knotting white clover stems around the blossoms. I hope today’s children are still enjoying
these gifts from nature.

I watched with
pleasure in May when once again a large ring of mayflowers showed up in Mary
Lea’s meadow. I wanted to stop and go
over and look under the green umbrella tops to see the little white mayflower
beneath the leaves. But I didn’t. There really is not a very good place to park
right there on our country road. That
together with the fear of ticks, which is rightfully high in our family right
now since grandson Sam contracted Lyme, prevented me from stopping. So I use my imagination to see the blossoms
as I pass by on my frequent trips to Katherine’s.

Now the golden day
lilies that our neighbors Scott and Sonje Cully gave us when we first moved
here have just started blooming again. Profusely. They make a cheerful wall of welcome
beside our house as we come up the driveway and into the garage. I am grateful for the color and the cheer
that good neighbors and bright flowers add to life.

Sunday, June 01, 2014

Honeysuckle decorates
our country roadsides with charming beauty right now. Climbing upward and over small
trees or spreading along untended fence rows, the honeysuckle’s white and
yellow blossoms are thick and lovely on this beginning of June.

I have a strong
emotional attachment to honeysuckle going back to my childhood. At the end of our front porch across from the
school in Jonesboro,
there was a wall of honeysuckle giving off its wonderful aroma when we sat down
to rest or swing on the glider there. Someone
taught me how to pick a bloom and suck the sweetness out. I have used
honeysuckle in flower arrangements for weddings or everyday bouquets. And I have fond long-ago memories when we
first moved to this country road of rolling down the car windows to smell the
honeysuckle along our road when I came home late at night from play practices. Later
when we first built this house, Gerald even planted some on the end of our deck
outside our bedroom door.

It took over and
became troublesome, and we had to give it up, although there is plenty over on
our tiny island in the lake. Nevertheless, when I first heard the term
“invasive species” about my beloved honeysuckle, I felt personally
attacked. It took a hike along with the
school children following a worker at ShawneeNational Forest
to convince me that maybe that word was more accurate than I wished. The worker explained how necessary to was for
them to make forays into the forest to cut out the honeysuckle lest it
completely crowd out other plant life.

So in spite of myself,
I think of that when I enjoy the abundant roadside honeysuckle in all its glory
right now. The birds will spread its
berry seeds in places where it will be unwelcome. In the meantime, the bees and hummingbirds and I will
enjoy it just as the early pioneers did when it twined around their
cabin doors.

About Me

I am the mother of four adult children and the wife of a retired farmer living in our retirement home on lake he built on our farm. I have always loved to write and enjoy having you read my writing. My book Down on the Farm: One Anerican Family's Dream is available now. Drop by the farm and I will autograph your copy.
Down on the Farm is a great gift book tht would be appreciated by young parents, who are struggling or enjoying rearing children, and also by older people, who like to ride down memory lane. I have been surprised that men have seemed to enjoy the book as much as women do.